


Chiraptophobia - fear of being touched

by froeken_frost



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-06 00:50:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4201545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froeken_frost/pseuds/froeken_frost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas recalls his slow fall for Lavellan</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chiraptophobia - fear of being touched

He had reached for her wrist unsolicited. The rift had to be closed and he knew how. She did not. Her hand, her mark had been necessary, a tool he needed in this specific moment. He hadn’t noticed her protest, neither the profoundly distraught look in her eyes. He remembered it first later that day, as night was falling, bringing peace along, he remembered the panic in the woman’s eyes. But he didn’t payed any further attention to it. Who would not react a little disturbed if they woke up one day with a divine mark on their hand? Furthermore, she was a Dalish, just an unknowing child despite her age, compared to the faded glory of Elvhenan. Why should he trouble about her fears?

The first thing he noticed about her was her mind. Her knowledge, her quick apprehension. An apprentice, a beginner compared to him, for sure. But she was the first to see potential in, since a very long time. The first to remind him of all that had been lost.

So he took notice of her.

It had been clear to him since quite some time that his mark would distinguish her within the Inquisition. The humans looked up to her, almost worshipped her, even though there where others who wished for her dead. She was the one to make decision, everybody else was just advising her.

And he caught himself more frequently to approve to her decisions. A brilliant mind as hers, as willing to compromise surprised him. Yet, she never put herself in the first place, spending nearly all of her spare time at the small sickbay of Haven, taking care of the wounded and ill, or assisting Adan, creating new mixtures. Teaching him the recipes she learned from her clan.

Like that he started to recognize more and more about her, until he thought he had a clear picture of who she was.

Until he started to realize something, which wouldn’t fit into the picture of the warmhearted, caring person. She was still, restrained. A soft, only within her eyes visible smile was usually most of the feelings she showed. A smile, humming from warmth and compassion, but nothing more.

He observed her jerking every time one of their companions touched her, no matter if by accident or just because they tried to be friendly. Someone brushed her arm and her eyes hushed franticly until she found who touched her.

First he assumed it to be accidently. Until he recalled her panicked look from that time in front of the first rift.

Out of the sudden he felt terrible. He had only seen her as a tool. Reaching out for someone’s wrist unasked wasn’t really something improper, even for a stranger, for obviously he had all reason to do so. But for her, it must have been different. If only a brief brush against her arms could cause her anxiety, his grip must have terrified her!

From this day on, he made special effort never to touch her, not even by accident.

 

An intent quite hard to keep as a few month later they had found her unconscious after their flight from Haven. He had to care of her wounds, but to do so he would have to touch her. And she would notice, provided her mind was not damaged too much. He disliked both options a great deal.

To his relief, she awoke and never mentioned it. She thanked him for her life and never spoke of it again.

 

In all this time a new problem occurred; one he really hadn’t guessed. After all his time he had spent in _uthenera_ , after all his years of wanderings, he started to grow feelings for her. He tried to ignore them at first, of course. Her obvious reluctance of being touched would just make it easier for him, he tried to make himself believe. She would never want him, anyway.

But then the dream happened. The one dream in which she found him. Found him without even knowing she was dreaming, without knowing they met in the fade.

The dream in which she kissed him, all of the sudden. Just a brief, almost innocent kiss, only a second lingering her lips on his. Just one moment. But a moment enough to tear down all of his tediously built walls.

It wasn’t real. It was just a dream.

She asked for some time to consider. He asked, too. So they took their time. And continued as they had before, friendly spoken words, exchanging their knowledge, evening filling talks about history, language and magic.

But as they slept it happened more and more frequently that they found each other in their dreams. Now, they were both aware of their slumber, they knew this was just a dream. He showed her memories long forgotten, remnants of thousands of years and she showed him places she had travelled by with her clan. Everything just a heartbeat away.

In the fade everything they denied themselves in the material world was possible. She kissed him, he kissed her. He took her hand, she kissed his. They roamed through dense green woods, danced on the balls of Halamshiral to music long gone for centuries. It wasn’t real, but yet it was, in a way.

Here, they did not need any time to consider. Here nothing was complicated. It simply came to them, like breathing.

Yet in the daylight, they stayed friendly, distant. She learned more about their people’s history and the magic of the fade, she told him to become a better healer. They helped each other in understanding this strange world, they have been torn into. They even managed to get better along with their companions.

The only noticeable thing was her earlier times of retirement. And usually he followed quickly afterwards, a smile of anticipation he could not help on his lips.

 

They probably would have continued like this, if she hadn’t visited him once in the middle of the night. The night he returned to Skyhold after grieving for _wisdom_. The sudden loss of his dearest, oldest friend still hurt. He felt too vulnerable, too lonely this night to be with her. Physically. But he didn’t send her away, as well as she didn’t leave. The silver moonlight swirling around her, letting her glow like an entity from far beyond this world. He wanted her, just for a single moment. Just forget for a second what sadness and solitude meant. But he hold back. The memory of the horrified look in her eyes from their first encounter wouldn’t let go of him. Not even now. He intended to leave, as he felt it. Her hand s gently laying on his arm. Her real hand. Touching him, denying him to leave. He could feel her slender fingers, pushing softly on his flesh. Such a small touch, but it was real. She had chosen to finally touch him.

Her whispered “Don’t go!” crushed even the last remnant of his resistance.

 

And now she is lying beside him. He knows her now for just a few years. A heartbeat in comparison to his life. Yet he seems to have lived more intense in these few years than in the past centuries, against all reason.

It will never be easy. It will never get easier.

She often likes to cuddle up against him, at least he believes so. Once she collapses after their lovemaking she snuggles to him. And he holds her as tight and caring as it is possible for him. Because it can’t last forever. He might only have this night left.

As soon as she falls asleep, she turns away. She isn’t doing it on purpose, and in the dawn as she awakes she crawls back to him and falls asleep again, her cheek against his chest.

But in the night she keeps lying beside him, rolled up, as close to him as possible without touching him.

Lifelong habits do not falter in a few years.

But finally he understands her fear of being touched.


End file.
